Fallen Harlot

...so to speak...one of the many imaginatively named classic Lakeland climbs up Castle Rock of Triermain, in St.John’s in the Vale.

T rang to ask if I fancied going to see the dramatic rock fall that had been predicted for some time....
https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-cumbria-46350937

A collage in extras shows the homes below where a friend of ours lives - all thankfully unaffected.
The tectonic feel of it was palpable. Sheared and shattered rock exposed raw memories of the pyroclastic volcanic birth and early life that has been encased in millennia. The formative life that has been successively overlaid by eons of ice, moss, lichens and human histories. A real mix of awe and sadness for this being that feels so personified.

Paled in by many a lofty hill,
The narrow dale lay smooth and still,
And, down its verdant bosom led,
A winding brooklet found its bed.
But, midmost of the vale, a mound
Arose with airy turrets crowned,
Buttress, and rampire’s circling bound,
And mighty keep and tower.
Beneath the castle’s gloomy pride
In ample round did Arthur ride
Three times; nor living thing he spied,
Nor heard a living sound,
Save that, awakening from her dream
The owlet now began to scream,
In concert with the rushing stream,
That washed the battled mound.

[from The Bridal of Triermain by Walter Scott]

It was a big birthday for T yesterday so we celebrated with tea and cake after our dramatic and soggy climbing exploits.

In the evening I headed out to my friend’s at Maulds Meaburn for my belated birthday supper. All very lovely.